The Dawn of a New Day
by morbidhabits
Summary: Set during 6th year. The war is upon the world. While Draco finds a way to escape from the dark side, he finds more than just a friend in the person he least expected.
1. Chapter One

_Everything belongs to Rowling, I own nothing. Just an obsessed fan living in an alternate world._

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**Chapter One**

_The Calm Before the Storm_

The storm raged on in the early morning of the castle grounds. Draco sat still, back upright and shoulders tense as he listened to the drops of water hit the floor with full force. His face, although gaunt and sallow, showed no inkling of the very anxiety that shook him to the core. He was always good at that, he thought, as he remembered his father's words.

Lucius Malfoy had summoned him to his study on the night after the battle at the Ministry. The very battle that had hushed speculation and revealed the disgusting truth, that the world was once again, in peril. He had known that before anyone else had, had almost been amused by the sight of headlines embedded into the Prophet the year before. '_Fools,' _he had thought, '_With all the divination in the world, there is wonder in how people could be so blindsided as to what was happening before their very eyes.' _But he never did believe in a subject that lacked such control. That was never his style.

The amusement that accompanied him lost its spark soon after. _'Kill your headmaster' _his father had ordered, _'Kill him and we will be spared.' _Draco had listened and said nothing. He observed that this was a matter not up for debate and exited his father's study with a solid composure, betraying the acid that had suddenly begin to line his stomach walls, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and making him want very much to retch onto the carpet beneath him. 'Yes,' acknowledged the voice in his head, 'you _are_ very good at that. You would've been long gone if you weren't.'

He spent the rest of the summer in silence, had begun carefully constructing plans to get himself out of this mess. Deep down, he knew this day would come eventually. He had first realised it during the summer of third year, where his father had hosted a handful of disdainful men at the manor more often than courteous necessity. He had been around guests hosted by his parents his entire life. He was forced to sit with them, eat with them, engage them, even though against his will and these people were certainly not the 'guests' he was told they were. He caught snippets of hushed conversations during that very summer, enough to know that something very bad was about to happen that year. He found himself withdrawn, spending most of his time encased in his room down in the dungeons, fervently anticipating what was about to happen. When Harry had appeared on the grounds clutching Cedric Diggory's body, he knew it had started. This was the beginning of war. His mind flickered back to the memory of Harry. Draco let out a long sigh. He closed his eyes, listening to the drops of the rain hit the ground with full force, albeit lighter now, he noticed. His chest filled with hope for the briefest of moments, but was soon expunged as fast as it came with the question that loomed before him. '_What am I going to do?_'


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

_In Difference_

The doors of the dungeons burst open, revealing a dishevelled redhead and brunette, tie and glasses askew, frantically running to the front of the potions classroom and dropping their bags onto the floor with a loud thud before sliding into their seats.

"Blimey, I thought we'd never make it this time" said Ron, struggling to catch his breath. "Thank god that git isn't here yet."

"Well," came a sneering voice from the shadows of the ingredients cupboard. "If it isn't the duo of perpetual punctuality." Snape stepped out and made his way to the front of the classroom, his robes billowing behind him. "This 'git', would like to inform you that you are late. Again. If it were personally up to me I would have you two brewing watches." Draco, watching the scene with the rest of the class, tried hard to stifle a snigger. It was common sense that brewing physical objects was a near impossible and completely daunting task, which he was sure was the underlying malice to Snape's comment. However, judging by their responses, he gathered that neither of them knew, which did not surprise him.

"As it is not, most unfortunately, 30 points from Gryffindor," Snape announced to a very horror-struck Ron. He paused and a small smirk crept up his upper lip. "Each." Ron went from a putrid green to a deep purple, but did not dare breathe another word.

"Turn to page 493. Ingredients are on the blackboard," he announced with the flick of his wand. White script came rising to the surface almost immediately. "And I am most certain I do not need to direct you to the ingredients cupboard. You have one hour."

Outraged at Snape's reduction of house points and amused with the colour of Ron's face, Harry decided it would be better to turn his attention elsewhere. He focused on the headlines before him. The instructions to the 'Draught of Living Death' bore before him. He could not help himself but feel it was all too ironic. '_I am trained to be an artisan of death_' he thought vehemently, '_in the place I call home._'

He was informed of what was before him. He did not agree with it, but nobody else had a filed a complaint. He was brooding. Harry Potter had gone from one hit wonder to sacrifice for the greater good. '_The world saviour,_' he thought bitterly to himself, '_What a wonderful life this had turned out to be for the Great Harry Potter. I, at the very least, deserve to be stuffed with grapes before the burning._'

Harry decided to pay his dark humor no more attention. They were certainly not doing anything but making him feel worse. He cast a sidelong glance against the stone wall to his left, suddenly wondering what would have happened if he had never returned to this world at all, when something in the corner of his eye caught his full attention.

Draco Malfoy was studying him. He was studying him with a very different expression on his face. A commoner would not be able to tell the difference, but Harry knew Malfoy, had on more than several occasions to be up close and personal with the Slytherin, had observed the blood flow to his temples just to receive personal satisfaction of the knowing he was getting under the blond's skin. But something was different this time. He could not phantom what that blond was thinking because he had never seen Malfoy look at him the way he was and this, bothered Harry more than it should have. '_He's up to something._' Immediate certainty came floating through his mind. '_And I know better than anyone, when he's up to something._'


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

_Sneaking Up On The Snake  
_

Light chatter of the day's plans carried out throughout the Great Hall of the castle on a Saturday morning, with most of the occupants munching on sweet french toast and guzzling gallons of pumpkin juice to celebrate the absence of classes for that day. Harry was just as thankful as all of his classmates for the clear schedule, however he dared to bet that it was not for the same reason. He did not take his eyes off the rather elegant mop of hair seated at the table at the other end of the hall. Events of the previous day's potions class kept repeating in his head, like some insane storyline that had no ending. Why did Malfoy _stare_ at him like that? What did that look _mean_?

"Oh _Harry,_" a soft voice passed through the front of his thoughts. '_Yes, Harry, what was it about that stupid git that was so… off lately?_'

With nothing but a seconds warning, Malfoy looked up from his plate and caught Harry's gaze. There it was. That look again. The silver in his eyes shone through, albeit being heavily engulfed by the storms of grey; as if a battle was happening, right there and then, beneath his pallid skin like—

"Harry!" a voice cried. Harry turned his head to the direction of the shriek and found Hermione glaring at him, lips pursed and beady eyed. "Would you _please_ stop trying to feed my robes!" Harry glanced down to find a scene of massacre in front of him, apparently one he started. His food, which Ron was helping himself to, was littered across the table, leaving one miserable baked bean staring blankly at him from his plate. "Sorry," he muttered sheepishly as Hermione shook her head. "What's gotten into you lately?" said Hermione, smacking Ron's hand away from her plate. "Have those dreams started again?" "No, no… It's nothing, Hermione; I just—" Harry glanced back to the Slytherin table to find the head of blond had been replaced by red.

Malfoy was gone. Harry swore and stood up hurriedly. "I've got to go." "What?" interjected Ron, "There isn't any quidditch today!" But Harry had already left the table and was running back to the common room. He sprung his trunk open and his fingers looked for the familiar touch of parchment. "_There you are,_" he whispered, fishing out the Maraunder's Map. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." The map sprang to life at the sound of his words, unveiling lines of ink that drew out the castle grounds. Harry leaned forward and searched it carefully. "You're not in the common room, not the library, no… bloody hell Malfoy where are you?"

His heart raced as he spotted a dot labelled with the name of his prey. "_Got you!_" He wiped the map clean, shoved it in the back of his trunk and took the stairs toward the castle grounds two at a time.

Draco sat by the lake, staring at the Whomping Willow in the distance. 'If all else fails, I at least have _that_ option.' He thought solemnly to himself. He wondered how much pain the Whomping Willow could inflict upon him up to the point where it all became numb, but was interrupted by the messy crackling and snapping of leaves and twigs under immense weight, each stomp a bit louder than the other, until it stopped right behind him. Draco did not need to turn around to know who was standing there. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Potter?" he spat bitterly, back still faced to his visitor.

"What are you up to Malfoy?" demanded Harry. "What in the bloody world was all that staring about?"

"I hadn't the faintest idea that I have to now report why I look certain ways to _you_, Potter, neither did I ever think you interested." said Malfoy, biting his lip. Harry stared blankly at him. How on earth did Malfoy give him so many words in return to his question but never an answer? Suddenly feeling very foolish for standing there, using his figment of imagination as the sole evidence for his case, Harry turned to walk away.

"Wait," said Malfoy, turning to face Harry. "I have a deal to offer you."

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First off, my first review! Thank you EmotionalDreamer101, I really hope you enjoy this chapter! So sorry for the late update, I've been having major exams and they've been... well, majorly upsetting. Wish me luck!

_xoxo_


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

_The Deal With The Devil_

"A what?" asked Harry thickly. "A deal, Potter" said Draco, slower this time. "A formal exchange of promise between two parties."

"I know what a deal is, Malfoy" replied Harry hastily, feeling like he suddenly got hit in the head with a bludger. Did Draco Malfoy just admit he wanted something from him? "But why would I want to make a deal with _you_?"

"Because I know things you don't" said Malfoy simply. He could see the insides of Harry cringe. Draco knew if it was one thing Harry was, it was impatient; recklessly impatient. He wanted what Draco had to offer. "And why would I trust anything you say?" said Harry, wary. The desire to pry information out of the blond was overpowering, but he had to be careful with the Slytherin, their previous partnerships had been less than pleasant.

Harry thought back to first year, where he served detention with Draco in the forbidden forest, how he ran away and left Harry to fend for himself at the sight of the cloaked figure draining a unicorn of its blood. He suddenly realised why Malfoy was approaching him with his 'deal'.

"You're scared." said Harry.

"If anyone says that they aren't in this day and age, they are either complete liars or belong in St. Mungos." said Draco admittedly. "I've seen wretched things in my life and I am neither ashamed nor deny myself the liberty to say that I am afraid, and that you should be too."

Harry's brain was having a hard time keeping up with the day's events and Draco Malfoy, sitting there, wand withdrawn, speaking to him in civil terms and politely informing Harry that he was afraid that they were at the brink of an apocalypse, was certainly the final straw that started the thuds that echoed in his head. "I've got a headache…" muttered Harry, his hand unconsciously grabbing the side of his head.

Draco stood up. "Well then, I'll leave you to your thoughts, Potter. Do illuminate me on your chosen response soon." he said as he started to walk away.

Harry stood rooted as he watched Malfoy's figure cross the lake and walk toward the castle. He pressed his hands into his face and tried to make sense of the exchange that happened, wracking his brain to recall a single threat that was pinned under a menacing glare and sighed deeply when his search results came short. He did not need to think, he already knew what he was going to do. '_It's like making a deal with the devil…_' thought Harry as shook his head and sped toward the castle to catch the Slytherin. "Oi, Malfoy!"

The blond turned back at the sound of his name and watched Harry running toward him, cheeks flushed from the whipping autumn air. "Fine, I'll do it!"

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Thank you for all the reviews, I appreciate them so much! And I'm so sorry this has taken so long... life has been a trainwreck but fret not, the next chapter will be a lot longer and juicier

_xoxo_


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Expecting the Unexpected

Draco felt a small smile tugging at the end of his lips. His mind was repeatedly replaying the scene from this afternoon, where Harry had run up to him and told him that he agreed to his deal, that he had, partly, agreed to him, and he could not help himself but feel a little lighter knowing that things were going according to plan. He arranged his robes carefully, checked his hair in the mirror and made sure every strand was in place before he took a deep breath. Preparing himself for a long night of painful questioning, he took prideful strides to the seventh floor, which Potter had said he would meet him at.

Out of nowhere, Draco was suddenly nervous. Why — he didn't quite know. It could have been the bare idea of working with Potter. He'd certainly never worked with anyone before this… _newfound mutual acquaintance_, as Draco liked to call it, having found no other words to describe the situation. Then again, everything about it was, in Draco's eyes, a complete disaster. He winced as he turned a corner, visioning that his company would be waiting at that very same stretch and stalled when he caught sight of Potter standing against a wall, looking up at the enormous tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, frowning at a troll trying to flatten its tutu by clobbering it with its club. Draco did not know which sight was more displeasing; the moronic attempts of the troll, or Potter standing there and watching it.

"When I mentioned I preferred a place that's private, I didn't think the seventh floor corridor, or any corridor for that matter, matched that presentment, Potter." Draco piqued an eyebrow. Colour rose to Harry's cheeks, from rage, embarrassment or _oh for the love of merlin_, it could just be from the awkwardness. Potter looked very much like he did not quite know what to do with himself. He was… twitchy. Draco watched, amused as Harry fidgeted with his collar. "Erh, right…" he turned to the blank wall with a frown, looking deep in thought, and started to walk away from Draco.

Draco stared after him, stunned at the sudden change of events, as Harry walked down the corridor. He had to stop himself from almost calling after him, but the further the figure of the Gryffindor walked down the corridor, the more the fear spiked in Draco. His words were almost out of his mouth when Harry did a sharp double take and walked right past Draco to the other end. Draco was beginning to think that Harry was somehow reconsidering — was he buying time? Had he, in fact, told Granger and Weasley about this? When Harry paced across the corridor the third time, Draco turned quickly toward the exit to the Slytherin corridors and was about to leave, when a rumbling sound from the back of him caught his attention. Draco turned back to see a door right in the middle of the corridor, one he was sure he had never seen before.

"What in the..." Draco stared in awe. "Tell anyone about this Malfoy, and I'll kill you" swore Harry. He proceeded to open the door and Draco followed him into the mysterious entrance.

"This castle never fails to amaze." Said Draco, taking a quick look at his surroundings. It was as every bit as private as he could have hoped for. A fireplace was lit to the left of the room, with a round table for two at the center, with a pot of tea and two cups sitting atop saucers, waiting invitingly. "A secret room?" Draco pronounced aloud. "All the uses I could have had for this."

"Something like that." said Harry, taking the seat against the fireplace. The last person he wanted to be seen around with was Malfoy, and if Ron or Hermione ever heard about it, he would not hear the end of it. "Erh, want some?" He offered, holding up the teapot to his companion sitting before him. Draco wrinkled his nose. This couldn't have been a worse picture. He had never imagined spilling his deepest secrets over _tea_, especially tea with _Potter_.

A bottle of firewhisky appeared before him and glancing down, he found his tea cup replaced by a whisky goblet. Draco smiled in delight, "No potter, this is my poison. This really is some room…"

They sat in silence, both of them taking turns to refill their individual glasses in exchange for the silence. This was much easier when Draco had imagined it in his head.

"So what's this deal about, then?" said Harry, breaking the silence. Draco took a moment to reply, trying to craft the perfect sentence in his head. "Let me make this clear to you, Potter. What I am about to say will only stay between the two of us. If you breath a word to your weasel or buckteeth friends, I'll finish you myself. Do we understand each other?"

Harry glowered at him. "And what about your little slimy snake gang? What makes me so sure you won't be running off to whisper into their bogey ears?" Draco seethed at Harry's words. "Firstly, I do not _run off_. And secondly, this." Draco threw a piece of heavy parchment at Harry. Harry's eyes glazed over the title. "A contract?!" He choked.

"A blood contract" stated Draco. Harry replied with a blank stare. Draco sighed. "A blood contract, Potter," Draco explained swiftly, "Binds the agreement, quite understandably, by blood – and therefore makes it unbreakable." Harry chewed his lip. "And what happens if we break it?" He inquired. "Well, let's just say the party that breaks it will not have blood left to ever sign another one." Draco picked up the needle that the room had graciously provided him with. Carefully pricking his finger, he allowed a drop of crimson to roll off its tip and onto the parchment. Harry watched as it fizzled on the surface for a second, before completely sinking into invisible pores and disappearing.

He picked up the contract and read aloud. "This contract binds Draco Lucius Malfoy and Harry James Potter to the points listed below. Information shared between the aforementioned parties are strictly confidential. Information is not allowed to be disclosed, leaked or shared without consent or permission from both parties." Harry looked over at Malfoy. "What if we're under the influence of Veritaserum?" He asked. "It wouldn't matter, the blood magic overrides the influence of Veritaserum." Draco answered casually. "So this is dark magic, then." countered Harry.

"You really are dim for a supposed world saviour." Draco observed, slowly swirling his whisky goblet. Harry opened his mouth to retort but Draco silenced him with his hand. "It is _old_ magic, not _dark _magic. What makes magic dark is the intention by which you use it. Old magic tends to have much more power because it has aged through its practitioners for centuries. It has gone through generations of improvements, each study finding better ways to perform it, which is why it is stronger than Veritaserum. Veritaserum has been around a lot shorter comparatively. Besides, a skilled Occlumens could fight Veritaserum off easily."

Harry was very confused but also very impressed by Draco's knowledge. He secretly wondered if Hermione had any idea about old magic. He could hear her voice inside his head. '_Harry, honestly, how did you voluntarily end up in the room of requirement alone with Malfoy? You can't trust anything he says, you know better than that. Have you forgotten who his allegiance…_" Harry angered at the thought. He was through with people thinking he couldn't make his own decisions, holding interventions when he decides he is not hungry during dinner. Emotions rose above the surface, fuelling him to pick the needle up and stab his finger, a little too hard. A stream of crimson leaked onto the parchment.

"Really, Potter, you needn't be so enthusiastic" said Draco, waving his stab wound away with his wand. "A drop would have sufficed."

"Erh, thanks" Harry replied awkwardly "For this I mean" closely inspecting his now bloodless finger. Draco did not reply. He was studying Harry with the same look that drove him mad. Harry cleared his throat. "I think you can start now, Malfoy".

With half of the bottle swimming in his blood stream, emitting warmth and making him feel much more relaxed than he had been, Draco leaned into his arm chair and folded his hands neatly. "What do you want to know?"


End file.
